I woke at Angel Lake the next morning with the sense of anticipation that comes from having reached a goal that was hard to attain; today I would claim my reward.
First, I’d take a hike around the lake and get a look at the views while Mike fished for tiger trout, then I’d enjoy a luscious day of doing nothing but blowing up a plastic inflatable and reading while floating on the gemlike lake.
The best thing about a road trip are the days you’re not traveling at all.
Mike was long gone, already fishing in his little boat, when I stepped outside the trailer with Koa on his leash for our morning walk. I gazed around; the sky was molten with sunrise and light caressed the triple peak of the mountain. Smoke made for dramatic skies.
I hadn’t been able to see this view from where I stood the night before; but the large, open-sided sun shelter we had erected over the picnic table was gone. Maybe Mike had taken it down? But that wasn’t his usual pattern. His morning habit was to rise before me, make coffee, and go out somewhere.
Where could that sun tent be?
Koa nosed around while I craned my neck, scanning for the large, square contraption on metal legs. “Oh no!” The thing had somehow flown into nearby bushes, were it lay atop the shoulder-height shrubbery upside down, a turtle with its legs in the air. “Note to self: always anchor a tent,” I said aloud, hands on my hips.
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